


High Flying

by odoridango



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amusement Parks, Cliche and a Half, Ferris Wheels, First Date Kinda Not Really, Greasy Spoon Burgers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odoridango/pseuds/odoridango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean and Eren eat burgers while stuck in a Ferris Wheel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Flying

**Author's Note:**

> Erejean week day 2: first date. Not like it was a planned thing, but still, it counts, right?

Ten minutes to midnight, and they were still in the same place they had been two hours ago—stuck inside a ferris wheel carriage, overlooking the rest of the Boardwalk.

“The view’s nice, I guess,” Eren grumbled halfheartedly, popping a stale fry into his mouth.

“There’s a reason you keep saying you want to go to the ocean, even though there’s an ocean _right there_ ,” Jean replied, grimacing at the limp pickles he’d been carefully excising from his cheeseburger. “And I’m sure it’s got 500% to do with the view.”

“What kind of ocean tries to freeze you to death when you try to swim in it?” Eren exclaimed, flinging his hands in the air. “And it’s full of trash! I found at least five soda plastic rings in the span of three minutes! There isn’t even any kelp! What kind of beach doesn’t have that disgusting shit? A toxic one, that’s what!”

“Drama queen,” Jean said, “You don’t get to talk about toxicity when we’re sitting up here eating greasy spoon burgers. I’m pretty sure this cheese is actually made of rubber.”

“Jean,” Eren said, looking at him like someone to be pitied. He reached over to pat Jean’s cheek patronizingly, rubbing the grease and salt on his fingers into Jean’s skin for a few precious moments before Jean was able to knock his hand away. “That’s the whole point of a greasy spoon burger. It shouldn’t taste like anything you’ve ever eaten.”

“Barf,” Jean groaned, and took a huge bite anyway because he was a growing teenage boy, and because he’d never tell Eren that he had a weird thing for Whoppers and McChicken Sandwiches.

Eren gave a smug little cackle, and stole the pickles Jean had plucked out of his burger. “And you said not to take the food with me.”

“Because that’s fucking weird! Who orders two cheeseburger combo meals and then stuffs that shit in their backpack?! _With_ milkshakes, ketchup packets and enough napkins? And doesn’t drop or spill anything? No one, that’s who!” Jean retorted around a mouthful of gamey meat patty. Eren was like that. He’d take your eraser, use it up, and never tell you what happened to it, but he always seemed to have a band-aid on hand for classtime papercuts. Or maybe that was just because he fought so much on his own time, he’d just gotten in the habit of carrying them everywhere.

“Plenty of people do that!” Eren said, scowling. He drank his milkshake, making a horrid sucking sound as he tried to get around the strawberry bits that had clogged up his straw. “You’re so pretentious. Don’t want to be like the rest of us plebs.”

“We’ve talked about this before,” Jean groaned, sliding down and off his bench, soles bumping the front end of Eren’s sparkly, glittery purple Converse.  

“ _Eren, we live one block away from each other, Eren, we live in the same postal code_ ,” Eren tittered, clearly mocking Jean. He leaned down, leaned close, enough that his breath swept against Jean’s cheeks and stirred the strands of hair that fell into his eyes.

“I know what you are,” he breathed, eyes half-lidded, and Jean felt frozen, unable to move for fear, for anticipation, maybe even for eagerness. Eren blinked once, slowly, and Jean exhaled a shaky little breath against those lips, and wondered what the hell he was doing close to midnight stuck in a Ferris wheel with his most wonderful nightmare, the type that left him sticky, wanting and embarrassed.

“You’re a _hipster piece of shit_ ,” Eren cackled, and dove for the armpits. The car swayed dangerously as Jean shrieked to the high heavens, rolling and climbing up the windows and walls to get away. It was like high school all over again, clambering over each other and wrestling across the floor. They rolled over twice, hit a bench, rolled back once, but paused as they felt the ground sway dangerously.

“The ferris wheel,” Eren panted, wrists pinned beside his head.

“Yeah,” Jean gasped, breathless, and swooped down to kiss Eren clumsily. If anyone asked him later, he was out of oxygen and not thinking straight. _Straight_. Heh.

Eren was speechless, eyes wide in shock.

“You—“

Jean giggled a little hysterically. Or maybe it was a sob.

He was saved by the loud boom and flash of the first firework of the Boardwalk’s nightly weekend shows. He was briefly entranced and mesmerized by the dazzling colors, the trailing lights, the way they faded into a backdrop of night sky and stars, and didn’t notice the way Eren stared at him, head tilted at an angle, lips pressed in a line, eyes wide open and clear and intense under the firelight, like he had Jean in the scope of a sniper rifle.

He gave Jean no warning, slid rough, dry hands along Jean’s stubbly chin to turn his head gently to the side, just enough that Eren could lick effortlessly into him, stretch out his hands and trace a heavy line across Jean’s shoulders and down his back, surging up to straddle Jean’s lap and kiss him with his eyes open because of course Eren would be a weirdo even when he was kissing someone.

It tasted like cheeseburgers and refried peanut oil, it smelled like ketchup and secret sauce, and both of them smelled sweaty because neither of them had deodorant, but somehow Jean still felt wooed and charmed, despite his indignation, despite his disbelief.

Eren stopped kissing him; Eren’s lips had felt like a brand, and it was hard to look away from his gaze, difficult for Jean to tear his eyes away from the vision of Eren panting wetly against his lips as Eren finally closed his eyes to catch his breath.

“Was this a date?” Jean asked dazedly, hands already slid down to Eren’s waist, barely aware of the rip and roar of the fireworks outside.

“I don’t know,” Eren said, pressing close with a sly grin, seemingly determined to touch every inch of Jean’s bare skin, “What’s your opinion on greasy spoon burgers?”

Jean shut him up with a kiss.


End file.
